A Beautiful Distraction
by Hanzor10
Summary: Set in HBP, Hermione and Ron finally have their long awaited moment together


**A Beautiful Distraction**

Hermione was alone in the library, as usual, and was working late into the evening on a particularly tricky essay for Ancient Runes. The large wooden desk she always sat at was covered in layers of used parchment and an assortment of textbooks, all of which were open and were at least a few inches thick. An essay such as the one she was facing now would not normally be difficult and would only require a small amount of thought and concentration due to her high level of understanding, but this essay was proving a nightmare. Usually she could produce quality work without even trying that hard, but she was finding it impossible to focus. Instead of reading the words in front of her she just stared at them, not registering them at all, and her mind would wander as she stared blankly at her books, only for her to snap out of it suddenly, realising vast quantities of time had passed.

Getting annoyed at herself she shook her head in an effort to clear it and forced herself to pick up her quill and write. 'In the early 1800's witches and wizards found they could communicate effectively via the ancient workings of the...' She stopped writing. She blinked. 'Via the _what!' _she exclaimed, dismissing her quill and leaning back in her chair, eyes closed. She exhaled in despair even though she knew within her what was wrong and exactly why she couldn't concentrate, bouts of which would spring up on her at any time but would subside, _usually. _But for the last few months a lack of drive had become a permanent feature in her studies, making them seem blurred and faraway, somehow irrelevant.

The cogs of her mind were not whirling at full pelt like she was used to, but seemed to jam often, not because of any inadequacy or incapability - but because her brilliant mind was otherwise preoccupied. Preoccupied with thoughts, thoughts that made her stomach flutter and her heart pound. _Wonderful _thoughts. Of course, she knew these ideas were highly irrational and it was not within her character to daydream, but she couldn't help it. Whenever she tried to focus, thoughts of_ him_ would consume her. All day, every day, each morning, afternoon and in now sleepless nights she thought of him. It was worst when in his company, where she could see him, talk to him, or accidently brush her hand against his. Just by looking at him she would feel her breathing quicken and she would lapse, like a default setting, into gazing at him. This could be embarrassing when he caught her, which was becoming a frequent occurrence, and she would quickly look away and feign interest in something else, only to find herself watching him again moments later.

Hermione slammed the nearest textbook to her closed in frustration. Why couldn't she control this? Why was it so difficult to overcome? She exhaled slowly, silently reminding herself of the realisation she had made months ago. It had seemed so absurd to her at first, but after a few days of thinking it over it had made sudden perfect sense. She was in love with him. Well, she knew that she really really _really _liked him in a way she had never felt about anyone else before, which, she supposed, could be classified as 'love', seeing as she had nothing to base her feelings on. (Apart from Viktor, but she had never felt anything as compelling as this about him).

Her feelings became most overwhelming during her staring episodes. She would concoct an imaginary scenario in her mind's eye in which she was telling him exactly how she felt. Not surprisingly, his reaction never varied. He would instantly proclaim his undying love for her as they embraced, (maybe even kiss if she dared) as if they were the main protagonists in some romantic novel. How cliché! Except usually this fantasy love bubble of hers would burst when she would suddenly realise that the object of her affections in the real world had noticed her staring at him for an extended period of time, with what she could only imagine to be an expression of pathetic longing on her face, causing them to eye each other suspiciously until they both broke into grins.

Hermione ran her hand through her hair. Oh God his smile. His smile was _perfection_. Jolts of joy ran through her whenever she encountered it and the way his eyes shined like an extended part of the smile made her want to be his so badly. Sometimes when she made him laugh he would turn to face her in order to give her his smile, as if it were meant for her only. Whenever this happened it gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, he liked her back, but alas she was always left completely in the dark, as his mannerisms were unreadable because most of the time his behaviour would lead up to a joke of some kind, which isn't exactly a reliable indicator of his true feelings.

With a heavy sigh she accepted defeat, and realising she wouldn't be getting any work done that evening she began to pack away her things. Lost in deep thoughts about a certain person, she was moving at half speed as if on autopilot. She was so deep in thought that she didn't hear someone enter the library or pick up on a set of heavy footsteps heading towards her.

"Hermione?" a voice called out to her, its familiar tone able to penetrate her dream like state.

She slowly looked up from the quills she was slipping into her bag and instantly smiled as a warmth began to spread throughout her. It was him. He was looking typically attractive, red hair tousled slightly as if he had been running his hand through it in thought, uniform dishevelled in a 'couldn't care less' fashion, and best of all, his gorgeous smile lighting up his equally gorgeous face.

"Ron," she breathed in a half whisper.

He gestured to the two steaming mugs he held in his hands, "I knew you'd still be in here, and seeing as it's always freezing for some reason I thought I'd bring you this." And he set one of the mugs down on her side of the half cleared desk.

"Well that's a lovely thought, thank you," she managed to say, and reached for the mug, grateful to see plump marshmallows floating in a sea of warm hot chocolate. She sat down at the desk once again, and expected him to sit opposite her, but he walked around the table so that he was sitting alongside her, and he pulled out the chair far enough so that he sat facing her, rather than the conventional way of putting his legs under the desk.

"So," he said, still smiling broadly, "did you finish your essay?"

"No," she replied with a smile, "not even close."

He looked confused and sipped his drink, "It's in for tomorrow though, right?"

"That's right" she said coyly, " it's just that I'm finding it a bit hard to concentrate at the moment, my mind keeps wandering off subject," she took a gulp of the warm liquid in her hands, "_unexpectedly_."

"I see", he began, leaning close and narrowing his eyes whilst copying her playful tone, "and what, pray tell, does it wander off to?"

She watched him for a moment, enjoying his close proximity before looking down at her drink and saying rather matter of factly "You, Ron, it wanders to you", at which she raised her mug and began drinking for what felt like a long time, she had surprised herself by acting on complete impulse. In her peripheral vision see could see his face change slowly, he obviously wasn't fully sure of what she meant, but she found she couldn't turn to look at him.

"So what you're saying is" his brow furrowed, "that you can't concentrate on your essay, because all you can think about is me?" He had moved extremely close to her again.

She swallowed, "Well, yes. That's exactly what I am saying." She glanced at him and their eyes met and she noticed he was smiling to himself, as if he had just figured something out. He stood up slowly, and crouched down next to her chair, so that he was as close to her as possible without touching her. He was so tall that even now he was on her eye level.

"Do you remember" he said softly, eyes fixed on hers, "when we first met on the Hogwarts Express, and you told me I had dirt on my nose?"

"Right there." she said, lightly touching the side of his nose, and they both smiled.

"And that time in 3rd year when you punched Malfoy in the face?" he added gleefully, and her laughter in return seemed to spur him on, "and when you helped me fight off that troll in 2nd year because I couldn't pronounce 'Wingardium Leviosa? And when you still managed to help me and Harry find the Chamber of Secrets even though you were petrified? And in 6th year when it was you instigated the whole setup of DA? And when you helped me study for my OWLS last year, well actually for every test or exam we've ever done, even though you're always so worried about your own?" he was looking at her expectantly.

"Yes of course I remember those instances Ron, but what are you getting at?" she asked, a little bemused.

"Well," he continued, tilting his head to one side, "I think that moments like these as well as all of our time together here, the burrow and when fighting 'you know who' may have caused me to" he paused to smile at her, "fall in love with you."

Hermione froze, falling into an instantaneous stunned silence, paralysed by disbelief.

"Oh and your _amazingly_ pretty as well, you know that kind of helps." He added jokingly, reaching out to touch his fingertips to her face.

Hermione felt that this had to be one of her daydreams and that she would wake up any moment and have to sheepishly look away from a grinning Ron. But that didn't happen, she was just gaping at him open mouthed.

His hand now cupping her cheek, Ron asked quietly, "You do feel the same way right? I mean I know I'm not the most intelligent person in the world but I like to think after all these years I'd be able to read you a little bit." He hesitated slightly when she didn't reply but just continued staring at him and blinking oddly instead, "And you did just say you were thinking about me soooo" he gave a nervous laugh.

Hermione moved her hand from her lap and placed it over his, holding his hand to her face. "Of course I do Ron" she whispered so quietly that he had to lean in even closer to her to hear, "It just doesn't feel like this is happening right now."

He smiled again, eyes roaming her face. She returned his gesture and they both leant forwards slightly, tilting their heads so that their lips met in a soft kiss.


End file.
